Random Musings #2: Sleeping with a Celebrity!
Shakira! The night after she sang ‘Waka waka, this time for Africa’ at the final of the 2010 FIFA football world cup in South Africa.
It all begins with the first England match of the world cup against the USA. England were fancied to win but a Green blunder allows Dempsey to score and equalize Gerrard’s goal, much to the disappointment of the English fans including those in our group, watching the beautiful game at the Royal Bafokeng Stadium at Rustenburg.
A trip with many firsts, already, for me. Flying on a chartered private plane, with guests and a few senior colleagues. Sitting in the cockpit as the pilot made his approach for landing. Watching a football world cup match live at the stadium.
We come back for the final — Spain against the Netherlands at Soccer City, Jo’burg. The match itself, much like most sport finals, does not rise to any great heights with Spain winning in extra time.
Football over, I head to the airport at Jo’burg. I am not returning home to Dubai but flying to Atlanta and then on to Houston to visit our offices there. At the airport, as I make my way to the gate, there is commotion as people rush in a particular direction. Excited chatter continues and it is apparent that there is a celebrity or two at the airport. Flying out of Jo’burg after the world cup, clearly.
I board the plane and take my seat. I set my watch to the time at the destination, a trick that I had picked up to help adjust better to time difference when flying long haul. The seating is herringbone configuration, the way some airlines style their club cabins. I settle down for the flight with my newspapers, magazines, blackberry and laptop, all within reach.
The last couple of passengers board the flight, close to departure time. They enter the plane behind me and walk down the aisle towards their seats. A lady is first and she walks to the seat two rows ahead of me — she is shortish, maybe 5’2” or 5’3” and, almost, petite. The man, following her, stops at the seat just in front of me. He is tall, well-built, in a sleeveless sweatshirt showing off rippling biceps and a chunky gold chain. He says something to her and she turns around to hand him her carry-on bag for him to put in the overhead storage bin. I get a glimpse ofher face and think to myself “Hmm, that looks like Shakira!”. She catches my eye for a fraction of a second and the corners of her lips curl into the beginning of a smile, I think. She sits down as does the man on the seat between me and her. My heart skips a beat — could it actually be Shakira?
The cabin crew walk down the aisle checking if we are properly strapped in and if our hand bags are put away safely. A stewardess stops at the lady’s seat, bends down to greet her and the two of them have a short pleasant chat. When she gets to my seat, I ask her “Is that Shakira?” She grins and says, ‘Yup, you got lucky!”
The pilot welcomes us on board, the cabin crew settle down and we take off. Once we are at cruising altitude, the crew begin to prepare for service. I get up and walk to the washroom in the front of the plane and get a good look at Shakira on the way back to my seat. She has her face buried in what looks like a Spanish fashion magazine. I glance at her companion in the seat behind her and realize that he has his unsmiling eyes locked on my face! I smile politely at him and sit down. Drinks, dinner and drinks over, lights are dimmed and we recline our seats and lie down.
I am lying down with my eye-shades on, but stay wide awake for quite a while. What a trip — to a beautiful country for a world cup football final with great company and, to top it all, the fantastic South African wine! And now, Shakira — less than 10 feet from me! The gentle hum of the plane’s engines and the red wine with dinner make me drift off to sleep. As would have the other passengers, including Shakira.
I wake up with the sound of the cabin crew pushing their trolleys down the aisle offering coffee, juices, and breakfast for those interested. I am up quickly, as is my wont, and head to the washroom to freshen up before others begin to line up. As I walk back this time, I look down again at Shakira. She is sitting up on her seat, just finishing making up her face, and looks up at me. I gather courage and wish her “Buenos días” and she smiles and returns the greeting. I compliment her on her performance of the waka waka before the final the evening before — in English of course — and she says, “Thank you!”.
Encouraged, I ask her “Would you mind signing an autograph for my girls?”. She says “Sure” and I rush to my seat and return with my world cup final ticket. She takes it and asks me “What are your girls’ names?”. I say “Madhu and Nandhu” and she signs the ticket writing their names and drawing a heart sign. I say “Muchas gracias” and she responds “¡De nada”. I return to my seat. Again, I glance at her companion on my way but this time he is smiling at me!
We get off at the airport and head to the immigration desks. We end up in parallel lines next to each other and reach each of our immigration officers’ desks at the same time. My immigration officer flips through the pages of my passport, checks my visa, quickly stamps it and wishes me a pleasant stay in the US of A. I look back at Shakira, and see her busy answering questions from her immigration officer. Her companion is behind her and waiting for his turn.
This is my claim of bragging rights to sleeping with a celebrity, Shakira! On the same plane, at the same time and with just one seat and her companion between us!
